


So I'll Always Have You

by pocketbucky (SophisticatedCat)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, First Meetings, M/M, Past Riley/Sam Wilson, Tattoos, mention of trauma related to military service, tattoo artist natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophisticatedCat/pseuds/pocketbucky
Summary: This could work as an au, or an alternate meeting to the amazing and beloved jogging scene. So, in my eyes, it fits into the events of TWS....so basically TWS au where everything is the same but Sam and Steve meet while planning their memorial tattoos.





	So I'll Always Have You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to Sam Wilson.
> 
> Also, shout out to the mods for the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang! [Send them some love. Their urls are linked in this FAQ page for the Bang.](http://samwilsonbirthdaybang.tumblr.com/faq)! This Bang was so much fun, and Sam Wilson deserves all the love we can give him. 
> 
> These mods put a lot of work into creating this project. Their love for the character and passion for creating and sharing quality content shows!
> 
> Also, thanks to [Sayre](http://babyboybuckybarnes.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing artist! and to Raven and Molly for betaing!

Sam had been planning the tattoo for months.

Riley had tattoos, beautiful traditional style pieces that covered his chest and thighs. The designs were not cohesive, text here, a faded flower there. Some were faded, fuzzy blue. Others were crisp, with sharp black contrasting bright reds and rich blues.

He never seemed to mind Sam asking questions about the designs: if they hurt, what they meant. Many late nights were spent in silence as Sam traced the dark lines with his finger. Some spots were still raised slightly, where the lines stood out from skin. Sam’s favorite was a faded and kind of sloppy pinup on Riley’s thigh. The poor quality and years of fading made the lines of her body blurry and a soft grey-blue. It had been Riley’s first tattoo, and they both giggled as he told the story of getting it in some guy’s basement at a party in high school.

Riley had told Sam he’d take him to get his first tattoo.

Riley never got the chance.

It took awhile for Sam to get back on his feet. For the longest time, he was focused solely on getting through each day, just surviving. The cruel contrast between that and the more difficult times overseas didn't escape him. After months of mostly-productive therapy sessions and group meetings, Sam decided that what he really wanted was his experiences to mean something, to help others. So he became certified for group counseling and started working at the VA.

It wasn't until months after that he found himself browsing tattoo websites. Sam found solace in the art. Researching the history and process was fascinating, and reminded him of the good times with Riley, of the late nights and raw intimacy of a past life. The memories no longer stir up profound hurt and heartbreak. Rather, they instill a nostalgia in him. Nostalgia for a time and person long gone, but still loved.  
After weeks of research and a lot of heartache of memory, Sam decided he’d get his first tattoo. It would be something simple and personal and for Riley. Based, somewhat, on the traditional style that Riley loved.

He put a day on his calendar to research parlors in town. He printed off some of his favorite designs, and swallowed his fear.  
He was going to get that tattoo.

The first parlor he checks out is too sketchy for his taste. It was dark and the other patrons appear to be a biker gang. Sam smiles at the woman at the counter before letting himself back out. He's sure it's a perfectly fine business, just not exactly his scene.  
The second shop is more clean cut. Otis Redding play over the sound system, and the facilities are bright and modern. A loud but gentle buzzing fills the building along with the clean smell of sterility. He decides instantly that he loves the smell of tattoo ink and Green Soap. Sam doesn't even bother checking out the third shop.

The counter is small, with a patrician behind it to add privacy to the work stations. The counter is a glass case which holds racks of various tunnels and other jewelry.

Sam peeks behind the patrician to see 5 black tattoo chairs with carts next to them in the larger room behind the patrician. The lobby is cozy, with a leather sofa and worn coffee table. Black binders with names on them cover the surface of the table.

He struts to the counter, feigning confidence despite the newness of his surroundings. A bald man with roses tattooed around his throat and a star wars themed sleeve greets Sam at the counter.

“What can I do for you today?” He asked pleasantly. Sam replies with a ‘hello’ and his gorgeous, genuine smile. He tries not to stare at the guy's tattoos even though colorful Luke and Darth Vader facing off is gorgeously done. Sam wonders how on earth somebody managed to do that with a little ink and some needles.

Sam sets the pictures on the counter and told the man he wants a tattoo on his right bicep.  
“Oh this is a job for Natasha. She does really great line-work and lettering. You can check out her work in that book on the table.” The man explains before turning and shouting “Natasha!” into a back room.

Sam picks up the black binder that has 'Natasha' printed on it in delicate cursive. He flips through page after page of beautiful finished tattoos and a few drawings. The bald guy was right, most of her work is delicate lines and grey shading. Sam is eyeing a finished tattoo of a honeybee in flight when he hears heavy boots stomping toward the front counter.

The presumed Natasha is short, with fiery red hair cut into a long bob. Her arms are covered in tattoos, with fairly new work covering up faded older tattoos. Natasha is probably about Sam's age, and he assumes she's spent most of her life getting and doing tattoos.

She smiles up at Sam and in a smoky voice asks what he’s thinking. Sam sums up his idea, trying to sound like he's confident in what he's talking about. Natasha nods before picking up his reference images and leading him to her station.

It’s tidy, with bottles lined up on a wheeled cart. Natasha pats the leather chair. The leather squeaks quietly when Sam sits down. She settles on a small, wheeled stool and pulls out a hardback sketchbook and mechanical pencil.

The two sit for several minutes. She does some rough sketches in her book. Sam points out little details he wants or doesn't want: "don't make the wings too thin", "I think I like that simple lettering better", "Can the banner wrap around more this way."

Sam feels comfortable talking about the tattoo. He thought he'd be nervous trying to talk about art, not being an artist himself, but Natasha's easygoing nature and the personal significance of the tattoo ease his nerves. She nods and smiles and lets him know gently if something may not work.

They eventually decide to have two feathered wings with a banner around them that reads “That others may live”. Sam picks out lettering that's simple and easy to read.

After both are happy with the sketches, they schedule the appointment, and he puts down his deposit.

Sam is immediately anxious to get his tattoo. He can’t stop smiling as he pockets the appointment card, wishes Natasha a nice day, and steps out of the parlor. His fears turn from 'what ifs' about the design, to speculation as to how bad this will actually hurt.

"Ribs are the worst," Riley had told him one night. When Sam asked if they had hurt, Riley's first response was 'No shit' which earned a stifled laugh from Sam. Riley was always an easy victim for Sam's contagious laughter. Soon they were both trying to quiet their chuckles in the dark.  
After their hushed laughter died down, Riley elaborated, "The thing is, the tougher the skin and the meatier the place, the less it hurts."

"What about a tattoo on your ass?" Sam asked, teasing.

Riley's smile broadened, "It'd hurt. Lots of nerves on my ass."

Sam smiled and continued tracing a faded line on Riley's bicep.

Sam shows up about half an hour early for his appointment. He’s too nervous to risk being late, and he hopes maybe Natasha can start a little early.  
He’s wearing a cutoff old t-shirt. The speckled gray cotton has been worn thin and stained with sweat and dirt over the years. The once crisp heather gray is slightly yellowed from age.

Sam can’t help but feel self conscious in the cutoff, but it does show off the toned muscles of his arms (which he is quite proud of).

He checks in with the bald receptionist and takes a seat on the minimalist leather sofa. There's only one other person in the lobby, a man sitting on the other side of the sofa.

The man’s leg is bouncing up and down, and he clasps his hands tight in his lap. Tight enough that his knuckles are white from the strain. The man has an unmarked black book clasped in his hands. Sam assumes it must be a sketchbook.

He thinks the guy sitting next to him is pretty cute, even if he does look like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin…or vomit…or both.  
Sam thinks maybe he should just leave the guy alone. The guy is already anxious and probably doesn’t want some stranger pestering him and making him even more nervous.

The stranger draws a deep breath in through his nose, tension visibly tightening in his body, and Sam’s resolve is gone.  
“First tattoo?” Sam asks, trying to be gentle but casual.

The guy actually flinches slightly when Sam talks, shocked from whatever anxious musing are going over in his mind.

“Oh. Um. Yeah.” The guy’s leg stops shaking and he makes proper eye contact with Sam for the first time.

Dazzlingly blue eyes meet Sam’s, and a small smile pulls on pink lips. This isn’t real life, Sam thinks.

“Mine too,” Sam continues, “I’ve already talked to the artist, now I’ve just got to actually get the thing.”

The guy holds out a hand to shake Sam's.

"Steve Rogers."

"Sam Wilson."  
"What unit you with?" Steve asks.

Sam is shocked by the question before realizing that Steve is gesturing to the small air force emblem on his t-shirt.  
"Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I'm working down at the VA."

Sam prompts Steve to talk about his tattoo. Sam learns that he wants to get a tattoo to commemorate his time in the military as well, but wants to stay away from stars and stripes.

“I want it to be about the people and the experiences, not the flag,” Steve tells Sam.

Sam understands entirely, feeling that ache deep in his chest. "Yeah, this is mostly for my wingman- my partner, Riley."

Sam continues, so used to the standard questions he doesn't wait for them to be asked, "A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn't done a thousand times before, 'till an RPG knocked Riley's dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It's like I was up there just to watch."

"I'm sorry," Steve offers. "I know how that feels."

Steve's lips pull into a small smile born of sadness instead of joy.

"If you ever have the chance you should come down to the VA. Y'know, if you want to," Sam offers.

Sam is downright relieved when Steve's smile transforms into a happy one, and he says he'll have to stop by sometime.

They chat casually for a few minutes more before Sam suggests “If it’s ok with Natasha, you can watch me get mine. If it’ll calm your nerves.” It’s not an entirely selfless proposition. Sam thinks it’ll be nice to have somebody to talk to, to distract him from whatever level of pain tattoos are. And Steve seems kind and interesting. Their conversation has been easygoing and comfortable.

"That'd be nice," Steve admits.

Just then Natasha stomps out from behind the partition with a confident and teasing, "You ready to do this thing?"

Nat leads the two men back to her station. Sam sits on the chair. This time a small stand is on the side of the chair. The leather cushion on top of the stand is covered in a heavy layer of plastic wrap.

Nat rolls a stool over from one of the other stations for Steve to sit on, at Sam's side. Natasha double checks the location of the tattoo while Sam gets settled. She washes Sam's arm with some soap, and shaves it with a few quick swipes of a razor. She places the paper with the tattoo design on it on Sam's bicep. "I put this here so I have a guide and so we know exactly where it's going to go."

She rubs the stencil to exchange the ink from the paper to Sam's wet arm. After peeling away the thin piece of paper, Natasha has Sam stand up and walk over to a large mirror on the opposite wall.

The stencil is a simple idea of the art, marking the lines not the shading. Sam likes how the wings go with the natural curve of his upper arm. He gives Natasha the ok, and she has him settle on the chair, laying down on his side.

"If you need a break or to adjust how you're laying, just let me know."

"Will do." Sam answers. The confidence he was experiencing earlier starts to slip as Natasha starts her machine and wheels her stool closer to him.  
He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. It just isn't the 'throwing up and passing out' level of pain he'd seen online and on tv. The heavy swipes of the needle feel like scratching against his skin.

Just as he gets used to the sharp scratching against his skin, Natasha moves to another part of the tattoo. The parts that are on the bulk of his shoulder muscle don't hurt as bad, but as the needle dips closer to the soft skin on the sides of his arm Sam winces at the buzzing sting.

She works diligently, eyes focused on her work. Every few moments she’ll gently swipe over the fresh ink with a paper towel, wiping away smudges of black and soothing the skin. Sam relishes each soothing swipe of the paper towel.

After a few minutes, Sam glances over at Steve. Steve’s demeanor is definitely calmer. His eyes are focused on what Natasha is doing. Sam flashes him a quick smile before relaxing his head again.

The stinging buzzing against his skin stops and Natasha sets her machine to the side. She pours some liquid over the fresh ink and gives it a few swipes. The paper towel burns slightly as it touches the tender skin, but the cool liquid also soothes his skin.

"Wanna see it before I cover it up?" Natasha asks.

"Yeah." Sam answers. He can't hide the giddiness in his voice. Anticipation has been building for over an hour, and Sam is ready to see the artwork.  
It's far more beautiful than Sam could have imagined. The wings are drawn out in sharp lines, and subtle grey shading gives them extra life. The banner curls naturally, the thin lettering is sharp and gorgeous.

The black ink contrasts more with his dark brown skin than he'd anticipated. Online sources had assured him that a tattoo wouldn't show on dark skin, but the sharp lines are crisp and dark. Sam fights the urge to run a finger over the slightly-raised lines of ink.  
Sam is proud to have this beautiful piece dedicated to a beautiful man. A mixture of pride and sadness bubble in Sam's throat. He swallows around it, sniffling once.

Natasha's smokey voice pulls him from his thoughts. "You did good," she assures him. She places a strong but gentle hand on Sam's back. "I'm going to cover it up with some plastic, then ring you up at the front counter.

Sam nods in understanding. Natasha smudges vaseline over the fresh ink and lays a square of plastic wrap over it, taping it down with scotch tape. She instructs him to take the plastic off and gently clean the tattoo in a few hours.

As Sam draws a few deep breaths, Natasha heads to the counter to ring him up. Steve, however, stands by the tattoo chair, waiting for Sam.  
"So?" Sam asks Steve.

"It was," Steve pauses for a second, thinking, "fascinating."

"Glad you enjoyed the show," Sam teases.

"We should do it again sometime." Steve teases back with matched vigor.

Sam chuckles at that, "Well, good tattoos aren't cheap, and I have a finite amount of skin. So how about coffee instead?"

Steve beams at that, "Sure. Can I get your number?"

They beam at each other, like a pair of over-eager schoolchildren, as they exchange phone numbers. They make their way back to the lobby. Steve assures Sam that'll he'll be in touch. Sam smiles and assures him that he can't wait.

Natasha rings him up at the front counter and instructs him on tattoo care. There seems to be a lot, so Sam is relieved when she hands him a little brochure about caring for a fresh tattoo. Sam is shocked when Natasha mentions avoiding petroleum based moisturizers.

"You don't want to use vaseline or aquafor. The petroleum can suffocate the tattoo," she mentions casually.

Sam immediately remembers Riley's explaining tattoo care, "Aquaphor is the best. It's sticky, but protects the tattoo better than lotions."

Sam remembers making a sound of disgust at the idea of being sticky, covered in vaseline. "You gotta be careful not to use too much though. Or it'll ruin all your clothes," Riley had explained.

He is only lost in memory for a moment before Natasha meets his eyes, drawing him back to the present.

Just as they're finishing up, Steve steps up to the counter to plan his own tattoo with Nat.

Sam catches Steve's eye before he walks out the door. He smiles, wide eyed. He things he notices Steve blushing a little. It feels good to make somebody blush.

Sam cleans his tattoo later in the day, as instructed. After carefully cleaning with soap and water, he spends a few more moments in front of a mirror, running feather-light fingers over the slightly raised skin. The water and oils are slick, limiting the friction between his fingertips and the raised lines of ink.

He wonders if it'll ever completely flatten out.

He checks his phone almost obsessively that evening. He tells himself he's double checking the time, or checking his work email, but he's actually waiting for a text back from Steve. Sam tells himself he'll wait until tomorrow. 

He doesn't want to seem over-eager. He also struggles with the subtle feeling that going out for coffee with a stranger you let watch you get tattooed is a little unconventional.

And Sam wants it to be a date, or at least he's open to the possibility. He assumes, by Steve's flirting, that the other man feels the same. Yet, a small shred of doubt nags at the back of Sam's mind until he texts Steve back the following morning.

_hey _is all his message says. Sam immediately cringes at how typical and boring the greeting is. Before he can kick himself too much, Steve replies.__

____

____

_Hey_

Sam's smile quickly fades at the typical-nature of the text before he receives another one.

_How's the ink feel?_

_Good_ Sam sends back. The not-unpleasant accelerated beating of his heart is barely audible in his ears. In a moment of courage Sam types out and sends _Is it too soon to ask about that coffee?_

_I was just going to ask you the same thing_

Sam can't help but notice the overwhelming irony of meeting someone while getting a tattoo to commemorate a former someone. Sam can't help but think that Riley would be happy. Not happy that Sam is going out for coffee with a beefy blond guy, but happy that he picked somebody up at a tattoo parlor.

With a chuckle, Sam sends Steve the place and the time for their first date.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I had to take advantage of Markus and McFeely's amazing dialogue for Sam. I feel like every line they write for him is perfect.
> 
> A few disclaimers:  
> I am not a tattoo artist. I have never worked in a tattoo shop, nor did I directly consult a tattooist to write this. I do, however, have several tattoos. 
> 
> The explanations of tattoos (process and healing) are rooted in personal experience and the experiences of friends and family. 
> 
> For aftercare, please just do what your artist tells you is my general rule of thumb until you figure out your own thing. I personally leave the wrap on for 2-6 hours. Then I use a wee bit of aquafor for the first 2-3 days then switch to a water based lotion. I clean my tattoos once or twice a day with dove bar soap and warm water while they're healing.
> 
> Keep your fresh ink out of the sun. Keep old ink out of the sun. Just, wear sunscreen no matter what. Be nice to your skin y'all. 
> 
> "Good tattoos aren't cheap and cheap tattoos aren't good" is another one of my favorite tattoo motos. 
> 
> And Green Soap is the best smell on this planet. If you ever have the means to, I highly recommend just smelling some green soap. Just walk into a tattoo parlor, inhale deeply, and leave...
> 
> What are some of your favorite body-mod related headcanons about Sam and the rest of the Cap Crew?


End file.
